


Maybe

by VolarFinch



Series: For the First Time in a Long Time [1]
Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Detention, Gen, Hey remember Alex, Other, Veronica Taylor, Whelp this is her but better, disassociating, mentions of depression and suicide, mild violence, not graphic tho, vague boyf riends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-28
Updated: 2017-08-28
Packaged: 2018-12-20 19:07:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11927337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VolarFinch/pseuds/VolarFinch
Summary: “Hey, dude,” a voice called, “aren’t you the chick that decked Rich?”Veronica blinked back into reality, sitting up as she glanced at headphone boy, whose headphones were sat around his neck. His music had been lowered so they could assumably talk.“Um, yeah,” she responded, pulling her hood down. “I wouldn’t call it that, but yeah. That was me.”The teen offered her a grin.“Jeremy says thanks,” he piped. “We’re not used to people standing up against Rich, so it was cool of you to do that. You looked fucking baller while doing it too.” He offered his hand. “I’m Michael.”Veronica may have been in a depressed, dissociative state, but she still had her manners.She shook his hand, offering an empty smile. “Veronica,” she replied. “Veronica Taylor.”Michael reminded Veronica of why she’d started that fight with Rich.





	Maybe

**Author's Note:**

> Hey look it's Alex but now she's Veronica and seems more like a full-er character. 
> 
> Critiques are still welcomed!
> 
> Shout-outs to @InsanityIsClarity and @EmeraldAshes for giving Alex/the story some good critique. Thanks to whoever commented on Michael in the Bathroom with Someone Else, really, you guys all rock and thanks for giving Alex a chance.
> 
> Don't like? Don't read. Don't comment.
> 
> I'm @volarfinch on Tumblr too if you wanna scream at me. Please feel free to.

For the last time for a long time, Veronica Taylor felt something.

Disassociating was a new concept she was beginning to delve into. It was weird and uncomfortable, her body struggling to feel something in the void while her consciousness relished the lack of emotion. She’d disassociated once or twice before sophomore year of high school, but after an impromptu move to New Jersey in the middle of the year, the concept came almost second-hand. Veronica had thrived back in Florida––she was a straight A student; she had a handful of close friends, all of whom would do anything for each other; she was _happy_ . She and her best friend had even been considering dating, having finally managed to talk about their feelings to each other. Life had been good. It had been _nice_ . Sure, high school was a bit of a mess, but she could deal with that mess one step at a time. Veronica had control over her life. It was great. _Life_ had been great.

Then, the Taylors moved to a no-name town in New Jersey.

Veronica found herself on the driveway of her old home, watching it with wide, disbelieving eyes as the last of the movers packed everything up for the seventeen-hour drive to New Jersey. Behind her, her little sister was crying and screaming at their parents, who looked apologetic, but resolute in their decision. They looked so convinced that this would be good for them. Veronica wished she could manage something–– _anything_ ––and join her sister in her tirade, do _something_ to convince her parents to change their minds and stay in Florida, but nothing. Veronica felt… nothing.

Veronica had no control.

A hand slipped into Veronica’s and she glanced up, tears falling down her cheeks with no memory of them even building. Marty, her closest friend,––her girlfriend?––gazed at her sadly, grip tight. There was just a shared silence between them––no dramatic goodbyes, no promises to see each other again, no nothing. There was an unspoken agreement that once Veronica moved… they’d probably end up their separate ways. They could FaceTime, text, and call, sure, but there were five states between them and long-distance communication could only provide so much comfort. Not to mention, high school was getting more difficult. Marty missing just one day would severely kick her in the ass, they both knew, but she was determined to see her friend––girlfriend?––off.

“Please don’t cry,” Marty said, voice shaky as she offered a small smile. Her voice caused a pang in Veronica––a reverberation of emotion that echoed around her otherwise hollow body. It was warm. It was so, so warm. So _good_. So familiar. So wanted. “If you cry, I’m going to cry. I… that’s not how I want this to go.”

“I know,” Veronica replied.

There was silence as they faced each other, holding hands, the world fading around them.

Marty was much taller than Veronica,––a lot of people were––but she seemed so small in that instance. She shook slightly and there were big, wet tears in her eyes she tried to hold back to no avail. She laughed pathetically, not going to clean her face.

“I didn’t want you to remember me crying,” she choked. Another tidal wave of emotion resounded in Veronica, warming her bones and causing the gears in her head to turn, slowly, but surely. “I just… I wanted to be the stronger one. You shouldn’t have to be the strong one in this instance.”

“Yeah,” Veronica agreed. She didn’t wipe away her tears,––she couldn’t risk letting go of Marty now––but she did manage a big, goofy grin at her significant other. “I’m gonna miss you, you walnut.”

Marty laughed, nearly doubling-over at the nickname.

“I’m going to miss you, too, short-stock.”

“Don’t be an asshole, Marty,” Veronica bit back, but they were both laughing and crying anyway.

Veronica stared at their intertwined hands, relishing in the warmth Marty provided. Marty was safe. Marty was comfortable. Marty… Marty was so much. Veronica felt herself choke up again, her body shaking as she fought off more tears. Marty’s grip on her tightened.

“Tell Mrs. Cunningham off for me?” Veronica offered, voice thick with emotion.

Marty laughed again.

 _God, her laugh is beautiful,_ Veronica couldn’t help but think.

“Maybe,” Marty replied, but there was a twinkle in her eyes. Veronica didn’t expect anything, but the sentiment had to count for something.

“I’ll send shitty postcards.”

“I know.”

“And I’ll take pictures. Fuck man, I’ll get Snapchat. We can talk there.”

“I know.”

“I––I love you.”

There was a brief pause. Both girls were in tears, sobbing and shaking. Marty wrapped Veronica in a hug, practically encompassing the shorter girl with her whole body. Veronica chuckled thickly, her laughter fading into another sob.

“I––I know,” Marty replied. “I love you, too.”

Veronica felt a lot at once in that instance. She felt joy and pure happiness, coupled with crippling dread and abrupt homesickness. She grip on Marty tightened and she didn’t even try to hold back another sob because what was the point? Instead, she just took in Marty, her best friend, possible temporary girlfriend, and just the one person she’d actually found in herself to trust with her heart and emotions. She felt anger towards her parents, but ignore it in favor of the moment. Veronica felt emotions and she was greedy with how many she experienced at once. She took in everything––the humid air, the quelled heat of Floridian “winter”, Marty.

_Marty, Marty, Marty._

Veronica didn’t remember untangling from Marty, nor did she remember piling into the car. She didn’t even remember the car pulling out of the driveway. She could barely recall Marty’s lips meeting her’s, just for a split second, before the best thing in Veronica’s life disappeared. She simply blinked and found herself already too–far–gone, the warmth sucked from her as if she’d been Kissed by a Dementor. She stared out at the open road, only a dozen or so cars within eyesight as the family’s journey to New Jersey began.

Veronica glanced at the driver’s seat, watching her parents share a worried glance between them.

“This will be good for us,” her mother tried. “Think of it! New people, new school, new _you_. Think of all the new friends, all the new experiences! This move will be good.”

“Yeah, right,” Veronica’s sister muttered bitterly, crossing her arms as she went back to texting.

Veronica didn’t say anything. She didn’t do anything. She just sat there, gazing out, not feeling, not being, simply… not. She watched the road fade out, watched the trees fly by, and simply sat there as everything she’d ever known had been left behind.

Her parents shared another glance. They expected their youngest’s reaction, yes, but Veronica’s––or lack-of-therefore––concerned them. They weren’t used to seeing their daughter so… apathetic. So unresponsive.

For the first time in eight months, the Taylor parents began to regret their decision.

Veronica reached into her jean’s back pocket, vaguely aware that she needed some chapstick when something new met her hands. She paused, pulling out the item as she stared down at it. In her hand was a patch. She stared at it for a long time, taking in several facts at once––it was an 8-bit video game heart; it was red with a white back; the white back had words written on it.

“Wherever you are, I am. ––M”

And Veronica cried.

* * *

 

For the first time in a long time, Veronica was experiencing something new.

Veronica walked into the classroom on a chilly April day. Her knuckles ached and she was exhausted. Nine o’clock was too early, especially with a seven-forty school week. She almost regretted the decision that landed her in Saturday detention but feeling anything was beyond her at this point. Disassociating had become second-nature over the past three months. She’d fade in and out of the non-feeling reservoir she’d fallen into, brief attempts at climbing out made unsuccessful due to a number of issues. She was pretty sure she was slipping into depression, but she didn’t care.

She rarely did.

She glanced over the classroom, taking note of who she knew and didn’t know. She didn’t know the majority, but a few were recognizable from the hallways or shared classes. There was that teen in the red hoodie who always wore his headsets as if trying to block out the world. They shared an English class. She couldn’t begin to guess why he was here––he seemed too quiet to wind up in detention. She also noticed Chloe Valentine, a brunette girl who partnered with her for biology projects. She was a bit––Veronica didn’t want to say ‘bitchy’, but it seemed to fit. Veronica figured that Chloe had probably been caught texting in class one-too-many times, but it was laughable to think that this would stop the brunette. Then, Veronica’s gaze settled on a familiar figure.

Richard Goranski.

The two had a miniature glare-to-disinterested-look showdown. She took note of his black-eye and couldn’t help but smirk to herself.

Richard Goranski and Veronica Taylor were serving time for the exact same reason––starting a fight at school. They’d fought each other, to make the situation better, and Veronica had come out of the fight with bruised knuckles, a busted lip, and an aching rib (thankfully not broken). Rich had left the fight with a black-eye, sore gut, and damaged pride. Veronica didn’t offer him a second glance as she made her way to the only largely-unoccupied area, which was the back window corner. She got a few stares as she walked, but ignored them as she took to the seat next to headphone boy. He glanced up at her, blinking as his jaw dropped a bit in surprise. He closed his mouth however and turned back to his faux book, phone tucked away inside the fake. Veronica shrugged and settled into the seat as best as she could, drawing her hood up as she gave a sigh.

The teacher said something vague about rules––no talking, no illegal stuff, nothing to extend one’s detention––before promptly taking his leave with no intentions of coming back, it seemed. As the door shut, chatter erupted around Veronica. Rich’s voice was obvious––he was obnoxious with his insults, all directed at Veronica, glancing in her direction every once and awhile as if trying to instigate her. She ignored him. She got herself in here once, she was not extending the visitation. Chloe’s voice was also evident. She was talking to Brooke, no doubt––she constantly texted Brooke during Biology. She talked about Brooke when they worked too. Veronica had suspicions, but she didn’t say anything. Next to her, headphone boy took his phone out of the book and started texting someone.

Veronica took a breath, sinking into her chair. Her parents had been disappointed and angry when they’d heard she’d gotten into a fight. They barely gave her time to explain herself. Even as she’s gone into depth of her reasoning, it was clear her parents were still disgruntled. Veronica didn’t get into fights, and she certainly didn’t start them. Yet there she was with one whole detention (how she only got one was beyond her, but maybe the school board cared about as much as she did), the first in her entire life, and just like the past five months… Veronica didn’t care.

“Hey, dude,” a voice called, “aren’t you the chick that decked Rich?”

Veronica blinked back into reality, sitting up as she glanced at headphone boy, whose headphones were sat around his neck. His music had been lowered so they could assumably talk.

“Um, yeah,” she responded, pulling her hood down. “I wouldn’t call it that, but yeah. That was me.”

The teen offered her a grin.

“Jeremy says thanks,” he piped. “We’re not used to people standing up against Rich, so it was cool of you to do that. You looked fucking baller while doing it too.” He offered his hand. “I’m Michael.”

Veronica may have been in a depressed, dissociative state, but she still had her manners.

She shook his hand, offering an empty smile. “Veronica,” she replied. “Veronica Taylor.”

Michael reminded Veronica of _why_ she’d started that fight with Rich.

Moving to New Jersey, Veronica had come to many conclusions about school life very quickly. There was an obvious hierarchy, with the jocks, physically stronger, and hottest teens at the top and the lanky, scrawny oddballs at the bottom. The in-between was a gray area of popular-and-not depending on the day and attitude of the popular kids. Veronica resided in the upper-in-between since she was new and had an aura of “mystery”, according to Amanda Connors, who stood highest in the girl hierarchy due to her current relationship status with the alpha male, Jake Dillinger. With this hierarchy came terms and agreements that no one had willingly signed. In that contract came the usage of bullying and being an utter dick to anyone considered a bottom-feeder of the hierarchy. There weren’t many people that far down, but those who were guaranteed a shitty school life––few friends, constant harassment, and obvious belittlement of self. Veronica was surprised that no one had committed suicide with how extreme some of the bullying had gotten.

Veronica had very quickly _tired_ of that hierarchy.

It had been a bad day. Most days since the move were bad, but this specific day had been worse than usual. Nothing had gone right, from her hoodie being in the wash to the surprise pop quiz in Geometry. Veronica was more suppressed anger than apathy; she had been aware of how biting her personality had been all day, but she didn’t care. She had been stuck in this hellish feeling–not–feeling state all day and she just _fucking wished my body would make up it’s goddamn mind!_ She’d been rude to those she talked to, or she simply didn’t talk, not caring about consequences. Both options led her farther down her spiraling animosity of her current standing in life. She even contemplated suicide, toyed with the idea, but never came to an absolute decision. Instead, she allowed herself to simmer, thinking she could simply escape to her room when all was said and done.

That’s not what had happened.

The final bell had rung and everyone ran to escape, eager to go home and prep for whatever was to come the next day (A.K.A––Friday). Veronica hadn’t dealt with anyone’s shit and had violently expressed herself more than she would have preferred, but during her last period, she’d bundled up whatever hostility was in her system and simply bided her time. The walk home was ten minutes––enough time to hopefully let her cool down before the inevitable confrontation with her parents.

She’d pushed her way through the hallway, avoiding anyone she sort of knew, when she heard a familiar, blood-curdling laugh.

She didn’t even know _why_ Rich’s laugh had set her off. He bullied Jeremy Heere every day, laughed mockingly the same way every day, and did the same stupid shit every day. Veronica thought she’d grown used to it over the past three months. Instead, upon seeing the five-foot-five bully slam Jeremy Heere into the row of lockers, something in Veronica snapped.

All she’d seen was red.

The fight had been blurry. There had been mixed cheering and red and sweat and Veronica had hurt for the first time in a long time. She whooped at the emotions, feelings fueling her as she attempted to body-slam Rich into the lockers.. She remembered being grabbed and elbowing whoever had her, both out of fear and anger and _how fucking DARE he_ and had stumbled back, letting out a hiss. Her eyes had met Jeremy Heere’s, who gawked at her, frozen in place. She’d cocked her head, a clear sign for him to run, and he wasted no time in doing so. Not long after, Rich and Veronica ended up a screaming pile on the floor, pulling at hair and kicking and kneeing and elbowing and biting. Students tried to separate them, to no avail, and several teachers had to pry them apart.

Veronica had growled at Rich, barring her teeth like a feral animal, and she watched as he twitched, glancing to the side to meet no one’s gaze. Maybe she’d hit him harder than she believed.

Later that day, Veronica and Rich had been suspended––Rich for three days, Veronica for one (since she was still new)––and had been assigned detention.

(Even later that day, she’d had a panic attack, but no one seemed to care.)

And here she was.

“So, do you kick ass normally, or was that just a good day?” Michael prompted, head resting on his hand.

Veronica snapped back to reality, offering a loose shrug. “Awful day,” she admitted. She had nothing to lose by being honest to a stranger. “I wasn’t going to deal with his stupid shit.”

She heard Rich hiss a curse somewhere from the front of the class, but he didn’t come confront her.

“Starting a fight seems like dealing with his stupid shit,” Michael pointed out.

“I think I needed it more than he did, honestly,” Veronica responded, glancing down at her hands. “Not to say that he didn’t deserve it,––he did––but… I admittedly left that fight with a lot of fucking satisfaction.” She peered at Michael. “What’re you in for?”

“I got caught smoking in the bathroom,” he huffed. “I’d figured getting high was better than math.”

Veronica tried to raise an eyebrow, but instead ended up just raising both.

“My dad has a rehab for that.”

“Nah, I’m good.”

“I figured,” she replied, sinking into her seat again.

They drifted into an awkward silence, the chatter picking up around them––had everyone been listening in? Veronica thought about it, wondering why they’d even bother, before realizing Jenna Rolan, resident gossip girl, probably had spread the news of Rich and Veronica’s brawl. Veronica would be lying if she said she wasn’t curious to who won, according to Jenna, but didn’t dwell on it for too long. What was the point of it?

What was the point of _any_ of this?

“Why do you get high?” Veronica inquired suddenly, looking at Michael.

Michael jumped at the sudden question, scrambling to remove his headsets as he stared at Veronica with big caramel eyes.

“I––what?”

“Why do you get high?” Veronica repeated.

“Shouldn’t you buy me a drink first?”

“You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to,” she said instead. “I just––I’ve met people with addictions. My dad’s rehab was full of them. _Is_ full of them, I guess. I’ve just always wondered _why_. I mean, I get why for multiple reasons––depression, bad relationship, rough time in one’s life. Shit like that can set anyone off. I get the gist of that. I just…” She took a breath. “It’s not my place to ask. Sorry.”

“Um, it’s fine?” Michael offered in response. He didn’t answer the question, but the look he gave Veronica was different. It wasn’t a look of ‘this is a badass right here who has a heart of gold’, it was more of… Veronica couldn’t place the look. Sympathy? Understanding? She couldn’t figure it out.

“You ever listen to Bob Marley?” Michael prompted.

Veronica shook her head, brow furrowed. “No, not really,” she replied. “I mean, one or two songs, yeah, but––my dad listens to him. Not really me.”

“Good artist, eleven-out-of-ten would listen to constantly,” Michael piped. “Which I do. Listen to him constantly, I mean.”

“Okay?”

“Maybe you should give him a shot,” Michael said, gaze on his phone as he skipped through a few songs. “Or try just listening to music in general. It may help.”

Veronica sent him a weird look––it was a weird, out–of–nowhere question. For a moment, she even questioned if he was high, but dismissed the thought. She’d ask a weird question herself, so Michael was permitted one. Still, she thought about his words––try listening to music. She had never been into music. It always seemed like her sister’s thing and enjoying something her sister liked felt like trespassing, which was stupid to think of now because it’s not like her sister _owned_ music. Sure, there was a very real, very prominent fear she held of the twelve-year-old, but she was convinced she'd long suppressed that. She was allowed to like things her sister liked. She was allowed to like music.

“Maybe,” she said, more to herself than to Michael, fully considering his words. “Maybe.”

**Author's Note:**

> Some stuff: If the story feels rushed or cut off, it's not you, it's literally my inability to figure out what to add to this piece. I've tried some stuff but largely scrapped it due to it being ooc and just plain-out inconceivable. I plan to have Veronica interact with more characters and expand upon her relationship with others soon. I just need prompts for them, so feel free to send any in if you think of some.
> 
> Critiques are still welcomed for the story/Veronica's character!
> 
> I'm @volarfinch on Tumblr too if you wanna scream at me. Please feel free to.


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